


Historical AU

by Isimile



Series: Marvel Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Al-Andalus, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Marvel Bingo 2019, Pre-Slash, hints of Iron Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 01:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isimile/pseuds/Isimile
Summary: When Charles arrives in Toledo to work on translating works from Arabic into Latin and English, he is teamed up with Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can't help wanting to get closer to his partner.





	Historical AU

Charles resisted the urge to bounce in place, his eagerness increasing the closer the carriage got to their destination. Soon they would finally arrive in Toledo. It was a long way from his home in England and required quite some time spend travelling, sometimes in appalling conditions, but he still had not hesitated for even a second when the bishop had offered to send him, a laybrother, to Toledo to work on translating works into Latin and English. It was not completely unexpected, of course. He had learned the Catalan dialect in the hope that might get to talk to some of the scholars from Toledo one day, perhaps even visit. Toledo was famous for their translations of all kind of works. He had not mentioned it back home but to him, the translations of works on science, both older ones from scholars of Greek Antiquity and newer ones from the Arabs, were of far more interest to him than some of the works from the early days of the Church they were hoping for back in England. That he got to personally travel there now to work there for an indefinite time at only 30 years old was an achievement he was very happy about.

The carriage finally came to a stop and Charles and the other travellers got off. He stopped short when he caught his first glimpse of his new home and had to be pushed forward to clear the doorway. The buildings looked so different from those in England or even those he’d seen in France on the way here. He had known of course that Toledo, like the surrounding area, had been under Muslim control not too long ago but he had not properly considered that it meant that there would be buildings still here, looking like they had been transported here from Baghdad or Cairo.

He finally shook himself out of it. There would be more than enough time to explore, he reminded himself. For now he needed to find out where he would be staying and working. Both had been arranged by his bishop but he wasn’t sure of the details.

The house where he would be staying and working was easily found. Everyone, it seemed, knew where it was and could tell him where to find his contact.

“Ah, yes, Charles, we were informed of your arrival as a new translator,” he was greeted. “I am Michael. You may leave your pack here for now. I would like to introduce you to your partner before showing you the room we have arranged for you.”

“My partner?” Charles asked.

“When translating text written in Arabic, those who do not know the language work in tandem,” Michael explained. “A Jew or a Mozarab, a Christian having adopted the Arabian way of life while they ruled here, will translate the text into Castilian and you will then transpose this into Latin. Some of us have learned Arabic ourselves by now but you, as someone unfamiliar with the language, you will be working with a partner, at least for now.”

Charles was curious now. He had not known that. He had had the pleasure of getting his hands on some of the translations having come from Toledo, but there had been no mention of the translations having been a joined project. Then again, perhaps he should have figured it out. Where and how should those translators from all over Europe have learned enough Arabic to translate all those texts? He remembered only too well trying to explain a text he’d found interesting to a young visiting scholar from Denmark, only to run into problems when the other didn’t know the necessary words in English or Latin since he had only recently started learning both.

Michael stopped in front of a door and pushed it open without bothering to knock. “This is Erik Lehnsherr. He will work with you.”

Another man, around his own age, was sitting at a desk in the small chamber, sheets of paper carefully arranged in front of him and illuminated by a candle. He frowned at them, probably because Michael had interrupted him during his work. Heaven knew Charles himself didn’t much like being disturbed without warning. He smiled at him and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Charles. It’s good to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”

Erik looked briefly down at his hand, then back into his face, before turning back to his papers. “Erik.”

Charles frowned slightly and slowly lowered his hand, surprised by the frosty welcome. He shrugged internally. Perhaps he was having a bad day? They would get to know one another better as they worked together, surely.

~*~

He did get to learn some things about his partner over the next weeks. He learned that he was one of the Jews who had come to Toledo from the south of the Iberian peninsula when the Muslim rulers started persecuting his people, though his family had only moved from Magenza to the Iberian peninsula a few generations ago. He figured out that he was interested and very knowledgeable in a number of different sciences, like mathematics and but also philosophy. He had a dry sense of humour that sometimes shone through. He had no family leaving in the area, neither parents or siblings nor a wife.

But their relationship remained distant, no matter how hard he tried. Erik, it seemed, did not want to be more than colleagues. And he would dearly like to be at least friends with him. He had never felt as alive as he did when Erik forgot himself in the face of an interesting fact or argument from the current text they were working on. Charles loved his insights and the inspiration he offered. He had enough ideas that he was considering starting an annotated version of the book by Aristotle they were working on right now. He’d tried everything, asking him along for a meal or his journeys around Toledo and the surrounding area, bringing up his own past and interests to draw him out, even outright asking him about himself. Erik refused.

Which was why he was sitting alone at dinner, pushing around the rest of his meal. Erik had rejected his invitation once again, saying that they were just working together, no more.

“Well, don’t you look glum.” Antonio – “Call me Tony” – led himself drop onto the stool across from him. They were staying in the same guest house. Tony had arrived in Toledo just a few days before Charles. He was younger than him, not even 20 yet, but a bright young man. He’d made the way here from his native Italy because his father wanted him to learn about the Toledo steel. Tony had told him very frankly that he intended to take advantage of the distance between him and his father to spend as long as he could here, learning not just about the steel but everything else that caught his fancy, regardless of how useful his father considered it.

Charles managed a small smile. “Ah, Tony, I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

Tony cleared his throat. “I... ah... I might have been out testing some of the theories I read about.”

Charles tried to look stern but couldn’t quite stop his lips from twitching up in a smile. “Did you damage anything?”

“... Nothing that can’t be repaired,” he admitted after a moment. “But they still insisted that I now need a minder.” He pointed over his shoulder to were a dark skinned man was making his way towards him. Charles could not quite tell his age. He seemed older than Tony certainly. Perhaps close to his own age?

“Charles, this is Rhodey. Rhodey, Charles,” Tony introduced when he had reached the table.

Charles paused, trying to place the origin of the name. It did not sound Arabic, nor like any other language he knew.

The other man rolled his eyes. “James,” he corrected patiently. “I told you, my name is James.” He smiled at Charles and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“_Everyone_ is called James,” Tony protested, then added as an afterthought: “Or John. Or Peter. Or all three.” He shook his head, abandoning that train of thought for now. “I’m gonna keep calling you Rhodey.”

The resigned look in James’ eyes told Charles that he had already realized the futility in trying to change Tony’s mind once he’d made it up. “Do you mind if we join you?” he asked Charles, ignoring the way Tony leaned on the table as if to make clear that he had no intention of leaving.

Charles felt his spirit life somewhat by the by-play. “Not at all. Please, sit down,” he invited. “Are you from here, that you have been charged with watching over this troublemaker?”

“Not originally. Like you, I suspect, I have been sent here to study and translate for my bishop.” Seeing the question in Charles’ eyes, he explained: “I’m from Ethiopia. My king heard about the knowledge coming from here and wished to learn more. I have been living here for five years now.”

“Ah.” Charles was too embarrassed to admit that he had forgot about the Christian Kingdom of Ethiopia, that he had simply assumed from James’ appearance that he or his family must have come to Iberia from Africa with the Muslim forces.

“And now he gets to gather some practical knowledge by helping me,” Tony said. “And how have you been, Charles? You still haven’t told me what had you looking so sad.”

Charles hesitated for barely a moment. Tony already knew part of it and he needed to get it off his chest. “I’m still no closer to getting Erik to open up, to treating me like anything more than a random colleague. He keeps rejecting each and every invitation, no matter what it is.” ‘He keeps rejecting me,’ he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

“Erik?” James repeated.

“His partner for translating books from Arabic into Latin,” Tony explained.

“Your partner is Erik Lehnsherr?” James asked.

“Yes. Do you know him?” Charles asked, eager to learn more about Erik.

“Not well but I know of him, enough to perhaps explain why he is so distant,” James said. “You must have noticed, I’m sure, that the Jewish and Mozarabic men helping with the translations are often not respected as highly as the ones writing down the Latin translation. In fact there is often no mention or acknowledgment of their work in the books, though fortunately that’s changing slowly, partly because King Alfonso values their knowledge very highly. But Erik’s previous partner, Sebastian Shaw, was even worse than many others of the old guard. He was a monk but, frankly, I doubt he is a true believer, since he shows not a hint of the compassion our Lord has taught us. Shaw looked down on Erik, on all the Jewish people. He claimed every honour for their work for himself, even when Erik did most of it. He had him working all day and most of the night, while he was out, doing who knows what. He was even involved in a plot to get the kings of Spain and Portugal to expulse all Jews from the Peninsula.”

Charles straightened up. “What? How?”

“When the crown prince of Portugal fell ill and the royal physicians couldn’t cure him, the more radical members of the clergy tried to convince the kings that it was a punishment from God for their friendship with their Jewish subjects. They planned an alliance through wedding between the ill crown prince and a Spanish princess, an alliance that would include the expulsion of all Jews who would not convert. Fortunately their plan was discovered and Rabbi Yehuda haKohen, the personal physician of King Alfonso of Castile, travelled to Portugal where he managed to save the crown prince’s life.” James paused to drink a few sips of the wine Tony had ordered for them. “So the plan of those clergymen had failed, thank God, but not all involved could be identified. Shaw very likely was but there was no proof and by the time the attempt became known, he had fled.”

Charles wanted to rail against the injustice, of what Erik had gone through, of Shaw taking advantage of his position to the point that Erik had a hard time trusting people. “What can I do?”

James shrugged. “You will have to be patient. Erik can come to see that you are not like him but it will take time.”

“I can be patient,” Charles declared. For Erik, he would be.

“I might have an idea,” Tony said.

~*~

Charles was thankful for their help and confidence. They had given him hope for his relationship with Erik. Having a plan also helped. Though spending time with them was also bittersweet. Seeing Tony and James grow ever closer, their mutual affection deepening, was touching but it also left him craving Erik’s presence in his life more and more.

He was relieved that Tony’s idea was coming along very well, even if it meant that he did not get as much sleep as he would have liked. But this was his chance to prove to Erik that he was not like Shaw, that he cared for him as a person, as his equal, not a resource to be used and then discarded.

He just hoped it worked.

~*~

Erik was not surprised to find a parcel on his desk in their workroom when he arrived in the morning. It wasn’t the first time Charles had left him little gifts, small trinkets, a basket of fruits. When he’d asked him about it, he’d simply reply “I thought you might like it.” or “It reminded me of you.” He didn’t know what to think about it but he had to admit, he was coming to look forward for them and to the time he spend with Charles. He was coming to believe that he really wasn’t like Shaw.

When Erik pulled away the cloth covering his latest gift, he was a bit surprised to see a book. Leafing through it briefly, he recognized it to be an annotated translation of Aristoteles’ manuscript they had been working on before they started their current project. He frowned when he recognized the writing as Charles’. What was the meaning of this?

He opened the book at the beginning, needing to see the first page.

He carefully ran his finger over the subtitle, afraid that it would vanish like a dream. ‘Translation and annotation by Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier.’

It was in both their names. His name was places not as an assistant but as co-author.

Hands shaking more than he’d like to admit, he carefully turned the page. His breath caught. There, also in Charles’ writing, was a dedication in Hebrew. The letters were a bit shaky, not as smooth as Charles’ usual writing and obviously written by someone with little practice in the script but it was the content that meant the most to him.

‘To my partner, Erik Lehnsherr, who pushes and inspires me every day to be a better person, whose knowledge, insights and ideas have only made this book possible.’

“Do you… do you like it?”

Erik turned around, surprised to see that Charles had arrived without him noticing. He stood stiffly right at the door, looking like he was ready to bold at a wrong word.

Not that Erik could blame him, considering the way he had put himself out there even with how hard he had tried to push Charles away. He tried for a reassuring smile and held out a hand to Charles. “I do, very much.” The slowly growing smile on Charles’ face as he accepted his hand took his breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr at [eleonorebirk.tumblr.com](https://eleonorebirk.tumblr.com/) where I will be posting these stories first.


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